


Joy Ride

by Cards_Slash



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Humor, That's it., a gun fight too, car chase AU, no wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While running for their lives from an alien species Kirk had accidentally enraged, they come across a car.  And well, if you were to come across a car while being chased by aliens that wanted you dead, and you possessed some lingering knowledge of how to drive a car similar to said car, you would have decided to drive it toward the nearest cliff too.</p><p>Also a gunfight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joy Ride

“What the hell did you _say_ ,” Bones shouted over the tall grain slapping against his chest and tangling around his legs. Running was more like jumping through the dense grass. Simple mission, routine surveillance, a short trip to the planet’s surface and that was all. Perfectly safe.

“I don’t know!” Jim shouted back but it echoed more like a scream, high and loud over their heads. Spock was cutting through the grass easily ahead of them, leaving a path for them to follow. Their plan wasn’t too involved, _get the hell out of sight, get beamed back up to the ship_ seemed to be the extent of it. “I was just saying,” Jim caught a mouthful of the round little grains at the tips of the grass and started spitting while he tried to run sideways to get through the grass faster.

The sound of the angry mob after them just got louder and closer. 

“Oh—fuuu—” As Jim disappeared suddenly. Bones tried to skid to a stop, Spock was peering down the side of a slope as Jim went rolling down it. 

Perfect, was Bone’s thought as his feet slipped and he was going down on it on his side. The shirt was hiking up and that was all grass, dirt and rocks scraping his skin straight up to his arm pit. Spock was following after them—the slope ended abruptly in a long ditch filled with murky water that Jim was clawing his way out of, thick wet leaves stuck to his arms and face as he spit and tried to catch Bones before he rolled into it. 

“What kind of planet is this?” Bones demanded.

“Captain,” Spock said sensibly from over their heads. “I believe this is a road of some form. There appears to be a house a few kilometers to the west of here.” He, of course, was perfectly dry. 

“Excellent,” Jim announced and wiped the slimy leaves off his face and flicked them back into the water. “That should give us enough cover to call Scotty.” He patted his back pocket to check for the communicator. “Help us up, Spock.”

Spock reached down to catch their arms and hoisted them up out of the ditch.

“I’m a damn doctor, not a track runner,” he muttered and stomped his feet to get the water to squish out of the boots. Jim was peeling another leaf off his elbow when the first crack rang out and something hit the dirt at their feet. “What the hell!” he shouted.

The men at the top of the hill were aiming at them again and shouting at the shooter. “Get the trucks!” someone yelled up there. “I want that mouthy one!”

Bones glared at Kirk who kind of half smirked and then turned and started running. “Never again,” Bones shouted at him as the second and third shots barely missed hitting their heels. “Never!”

“Doctor,” Spock shouted from where he was easily outpacing them. “I believe if you would cease wasting your breath to shout you could increase your speed by at least twelve percent.” 

And damn the Vulcan too. Bones concentrated on breathing, on moving his wet legs trapped in the tight pants that were far too heavy and tried not to stumble on the loose rocks packed down into the hard earth that this planet called a road. Jim pointed them off to the side of the road and jumped over a second ditch into another field of grass. 

“Cover,” was the explanation. Bones made the jump but landed on his knees, Spock landed on his feet and pulled Bones up by the arm, shoved him forward as he kept running.

\--

Car.

It was a damn beautiful sight. A car—there was a little boy in overalls on the front porch of the house sucking on a red popsicle with a fat animal that might have been a bushy-haired dog at his feet. Kirk skidded to a stop in the driveway and smiled breathlessly at the kid. The boy cocked his head to one side and sucked on the popsicle. 

Well that was reassuring.

“Captain,” Spock said at his back. He pulled the hat Jim had thrown at him down over his ears more fully and glanced up at the little boy before looking back at Bones when he came stumbling out of the grass and onto the rocky driveway. “We cannot remain still for long. The inhabitants of the planet appear to have some form of communication system that allows them to coordinate their movements. If my calculations are correct we have only—”

“Spock,” he said and eyed the kid again. The boy stared back at him dispassionately. “I got it.” He jogged up to the car parked in the old shed at the side of the house. 

The boy followed them up on the wraparound porch. 

The car was black, dirty kind of black like some kind of camouflage the top was made of canvas and the body was dented metal that looked like it had survived quite a few crashes. Kirk pushed his damp hair away from his forehead and licked his lips. “Get in the car,” he said.

“Stealing, Captain?” Spock asked.

“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” Bones demanded.

“Relax,” Kirk said and smiled at Bones’ flushed face. “I drove something like this off a cliff when I was a kid—it’s like riding a bike.” 

“Well if you put it that way,” Bones agreed.

Kirk ignored him and shot a look over the roof of the car at Spock. “It’s not stealing because we’re going to bring it back. Get in the car before they catch up with us.” He yanked at the driver’s side door and motioned for Bones to get in.

“Damn it,” was a mutter but Bones crawled in over the seat and into the back, landed with a thud on something that sounded wooden and hollow. Kirk shoved the seat back and slid down into the seat—cracked open as it was. The steering wheel appeared to be wrapped in thick gray tape. Spock was pulling at the handle on the passenger door to no avail. “Get in through the window,” Kirk said.

Right. Piece of cake, just like driving a bike. He remembered this—gauge for fuel, gauge for speed. “Gear shift,” with the numbers all worn off and no way to tell which was which gear, that was nice. He had to cock his head to look down at the pedals, looked about the same—three pedals, one gas, one brake and one was the clutch. The ignition was on the steering wheel column. “We need a key,” he said. “Look for a key.”

The kid was crouching on the porch now, still sucking on the popsicle while he idly watched them.

Spock was checking the floorboards, Bones was moving around in the back mumbling about uncomfortable seats and damn situations and Kirk ran his hands across the dash, up the to the roof and flipped the sun visor down—the key fell out into his lap. 

“Got it,” he said. “Alright,” he slid the key into the ignition. “Hang on,” when he car purred to life. It was a matter of finding the right combination of pedals was all. He’d driven one of these things before, caught the gear shift as he pushed in on the clutch and felt it shift into gear—didn’t know which one so he pressed on the gas and the car lurched back. 

“Captain,” Spock said from his right.

“Jim,” Bones said from behind him.

“I said _hold on_ ,” he reiterated. And looked over his shoulder as he shoved his foot against the gas and the wheels spun before they were really moving, fast damn car for looking so ridiculously beaten up. He turned the wheel, sharp turn, narrowly missed the ditch and clutch-gear shift-gas they were going forward.

It was a beautiful thing. “We’ll just get far enough away to call Scotty and we can leave the car somewhere they can—” Find it. Of course, except for the sudden roar of a vehicle around them and Bones’ low exclamation (shit) that seemed to sum the situation up nicely. 

Spock turned in his seat to see out through the back plastic window and then looked at him before informing him that: “There appears to be at least three of them, Captain.”

“And they’ve got guns!” Bones shouted just before the bullets ripped through the canvas and Kirk started to seriously think they might be in trouble.

\--

Shot at! They were being _shot at_ by a bunch of poorly dressed, undereducated barbarians in vehicles that were too damn big to be of any real use that roared like wild animals trying to hunt them down and Jim Kirk—who had driven _one of these_ off a _cliff_ as a _child_ was kicking his foot harder against a pedal on the floor and grinding gears as he cursed and ducked and the car skidded to the side toward a ditch.

“Captain,” Spock said in a voice as tight as any Bones had ever heard him use. The man, the impervious Vulcan who feared nothing was wisely sunk low in his seat. “I wish to remind you about the—”

“Ditch, Jim, damn it, watch the road!” Bones shouted. He was sliding across the hard seat on a thick canvas that seemed to serve no damn purpose while he tried to keep his head low enough not to get shot and another bullet punched a hole through the top of the car and cracked the front windshield. 

“Sure thing, Bones!” Jim shouted back at him. “How about you find us a gun or a rock or something to slow them down?” He jerked the car back onto the road, hit the pedals on the floor again and they shot forward even faster as Bones rolled against the back of the seat and felt the scraped off skin of his side scream in abuse. 

“Where am I supposed to find a gun?” Bones shouted back. He caught the edge of the seat and it lifted under his hand, held down by his weight but definitely a lid—what the hell, he rolled onto his stomach, caught the edge of the canvas as another shot pinged off the car as they ran cross the rough ground. “It’s a box,” he said. There was an old metal lock on the scratchy board. “Spock.”

Spock looked at it and nodded, reached back through the seats to get his hand on the lock and tugged once before yanking hard and cracking the wood as he pulled the lock loose. Bones slid into the tight space against the back of the two front seats and lifted the lid. The canvas flew into the back window, caught by the wind whipping through the car. 

“They’re God-damn moonshiners!” he shouted up to the front seat.

“Moonshiners?” Spock asked like they weren’t in the middle of a twenty century car chase. He peered down into the box with some curiosity as Jim jerked back to look and then forward again at the road. “That appears to be water in glass bottles,” Spock said.

“It’s whiskey,” Bones corrected.

“Guns,” Kirk reminded him. 

Right, he reached down and pulled out the two hand guns and handed them up to Spock. There was a bucket of what looked like bullets for the other two guns, long double barrels. He pulled one up, kept his head low because the roar of the vehicle behind them was getting louder and turned the gun over to figure out how the hell the bullets went in.

“Shoot their tires, Spock, we don’t want to kill anyone,” Kirk was saying. 

A bullet cut through the plastic, tore the canvas and shot through the seat over Jim’s shoulder, cutting his shoulder before lodging into the dash. The car jerked to the left hard and then back. 

“Now!” Kirk screamed at Spock. Bones caught the ragged edge of his shirt to pull it open and look at the wound black at the edges and oozing blood. Wasn’t deep didn’t look too serious. “Guns, Bones, I’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t figure out how to make it work,” he shouted back.

\--

Bones really was a very resourceful man. He knew a lot of things about how to put people back together. He knew a lot of Earth history. He was very sensible. He was sweet. He was smart. He was never coming on an away mission again. 

Kirk turned his head far enough to see Bones’ very serious stare back at him while he had both hands wrapped around a shotgun. Spock was half hanging out the passenger window aiming at tires.

“I’m a doctor!” Bones shouted, offended of course. “Not a bootlegger.”

“Hold on,” he said. There was an intersection on the road, sharp turn that those bigger trucks weren’t going to be able to make nearly as fast. He hit the pedals hard, turned the wheel until he felt the car shuddering as the tires slid across the hard gravel and dirt, Bones was thrown up against the side of the car and Spock was grabbing the seat to keep from falling out of the car. 

There was a screech behind them, couldn’t see with that giant canvas in the way of the window. Spock pulled himself back into the car far enough to report. “They are having some trouble executing the turn at the same speed.”

Time, they had a few seconds. Kirk licked his lips. “Bones, get up here, you’re going to drive. And that’s an order; get your ass up here.” He lifted himself up in the seat, hands on the wheel, foot hard against the gas. There was another gear he just couldn’t find, a fifth one—needed that gear, needed the men with guns to not be behind them. A sign whipped by the car, something about a scenic—looked like a cliff. 

“What do I do?” Bones demanded. He was coming through the gap in the seats feet first, sliding in close as Jim lifted up until he was all but using his hips to drive the damn car as Bones wiggled under him. 

“Right pedal,” Kirk explained. He grabbed the seat and Spock and pulled himself out of the way, got his boot caught and kicked Bones in the chest before he fell back through the gap in the seats onto the hard wooden box. (Oh bruises.) “Keep it on the floor. And steer.” 

A bucket of bullets, two shotguns and their friends were back in force, shooting twice as fast. The car jerked to one side as the bullets tore into the car and hit the side. Bones was cursing, white knuckled grip on the wheel as he righted them. Spock was leaning out the window again. 

Kirk ran his hands down the barrel of the gun, feeling with his fingers, thinking over the history of earth, old museums, his Mom always tried to make up for time away and he pulled the barrel away from the handle, it cracked open to expose the two bullets already inside. 

Now the top. “Bones,” he said as he wrapped his hand around the front seat. “Pull that lever there. Spock, pull the lever by the window.” 

Bones, for once, didn’t even ask what it did; Spock was always obedient in crisis situations. They pulled the tarnished levers and released the roof of the car; it flew back in the wind, jerked at their forward momentum and then ripped off entirely and went flying back against the men following them. The canvas caught in the wind, filling up like a parachute before he caught it and yanked it down, put his knees across it and ducked down in the back seat. 

“What the hell!” Bones shouted.

“Captain,” Spock said from behind the seat he was using as a shield. “I must agree with the doctor, I fail to see how this increased our tactical advantage.”

Right. Kirk looked down at the flapping edges of the canvas. There were long ropes through the metal rings that were waving around in the wind. He caught them, tied them together “Spock, hook that there,” and then twisted to the other side to do the same there, reaching up to hook it over the old fashion window levers.

The bullets weren’t so loud now, they were down to two trucks and the third was in a ditch in the distance and didn’t look like it was going to get out. Kirk settled down low on his knees on the box.

“Tires, Spock,” he said again. Rested the gun on the backseat and the trunk of the car to aim as best he could as Bones let the car veer to one side and then the other. “Keep it straight, Bones.”

“I’m trying!”

Spock shot at the tires, clipped the metal covers and offered soft swears that didn’t sound English. Tires weren’t working, Spock was out of bullets—Kirk aimed at the front of the truck. The engine would be in there, the radiator and whatever else made it go. He took a breath, waited for the truck to get closer and took the shot. The gun bucked back against his chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him but the spray of bullets hit their mark.

“I’m okay,” he wheezed from where he was stuck between the two seats. The car was slowing down but the truck was thrown off the side into the grassy field sputtering loudly and spraying steam and smoke. “Ha!” he shouted.

And then the third truck roared like a wild beast avenging its fallen lover.

“Faster, Bones,” he said over his shoulder.

\--

Faster, the bastard said. Faster. He couldn’t make the car go faster, he couldn’t make it do anything, he couldn’t even keep it in a straight line with the gravel and the dirt, the bullets and Jim’s body smacking into his elbow. 

“It’s not working!” he shouted back.

“Perhaps the car is not in the correct gear,” Spock offered as cool as if they were sitting down to lunch. His hair was being whipped around by the wind as he peered out from behind his seat.

Kirk was rolling around to face him, stared at the gauges behind the wheel and said, “Bones the pedal on the left is—oh never mind, you’ll just stall us out. Hit the middle pedal, just a little.” 

“The middle pedal is the brake, is it not?” Spock asked.

“You want me to _slow down?_ ” Bones demanded. Why the hell weren’t they just stopping entirely then, climb out, give themselves up. The bastards behind them would probably go real easy on them for it too. 

“Do it!” Jim shouted. So Bones did, foot off the gas that wasn’t doing them any good, hit the brake just enough to make the car shudder, start to slow and Jim grabbed the gear shift and pushed it up into a slot, sounded like grinding under the hood. “Right pedal,” was a hushed shout, Jim was licking his lips. Another volley of bullets hit the seat over Spock’s head. “Right pedal,” again when Bones didn’t move his foot fast enough. He stomped on it, the car shot forward hard and Jim kept staring at the gauges, licking his lips, grabbed the gear shift again, pulled it down and to the side before yanking it back into another slot and they shot forward again with a louder roar. “Ha,” he bothered to say before they were shot at again.

“Captain,” Spock said. “I appear to be out of ammunition.” 

Jim was staring over the top of the car like an idiot and then ducked down. “Bones, let me back in the seat.” He swung his legs up through the two seats before Bones could even find a handhold to lift himself up. Didn’t seem to bother Jim who was pushing his way into the seat regardless. Spock helped, yanked Bones by the arm when he couldn’t find anywhere to hold onto and pulled him into the space between the seats, legs spread around the gear shift. Jim fell into the seat, stomped hard on the damn pedals again, reaching between Bones’ legs to get at the gear shift as he turned the car.

Puking, Bones felt, would be an entirely respectable reaction.

Kirk was digging into his back pocket, one hand on the wheel, looking over his shoulder at the truck that was skidding to a stop to make the same turn. “Kirk to Enterprise!” was a shout over the whistling wind beating against their faces and shoulders. Jim’s shirt was soaked in blood all down his right arm to his elbow. 

“Enterprise,” was a whispered crackle that sounded a lot like Uhura.

“I need Chekov in the transporter room _now!_ ” Kirk shouted. That didn’t sound good, that didn’t sound good at all. “Tell him to get our coordinates and be ready to beam us up on my command.” 

“Captain, there appears to be a cliff,” Spock said. He was facing halfway forward now, no guns in his hands now, hair in a mess as he looked just a little green. A little scared. “May I ask what you are planning on doing?”

“Sure, Spock,” Jim said conversationally. “I’ll tell you as soon as we get back on the ship. Grab those ropes I gave you. Hold onto them.”

Spock obediently pulled the ropes from around the lever on the door and wrapped them around his fist. Jim was doing the same down at his left. Bones looked back at the canvas flapping against the wooden box held down by a gun slowly being rattled to the floor.

“Jim,” Bones said calmly.

“Ready Chekov?” Kirk was shouting into the communicator.

The cliff was visible now, just beyond the hood of the car really. His whole life was flashing before his life in fast motion and it wasn’t even that exciting until he’d met this idiot kid. Funny how he wasn’t really scared anymore because he’d passed terrified about fifty seconds ago with Jim started smiling again.

“You’ve done this before?” he asked and looked at Jim.

“Sure Bones,” Jim answered.

“Ready Captain,” Chekov chirped.

\--

“Spock, grab Bones,” Kirk shouted across the front seat.

“Captain?” Spock shouted back.

The front tires of the car went over, the back tires weren’t far behind. The truck sounded like it was skidding to a stop and that was really a good idea. Kirk hoped like hell Bones would still be talking to him after this because it was going to hurt like a bitch. The wind caught the canvas in the back and jerked the ropes around his hand as he swung out his right arm to catch Spock by the belt. Spock didn’t shout a curse but he barely managed to catch Bones by the arm before they were being hauled up (and oh _fuck_ that hurt as the rope burned down into his skin and his arm was yanked all but out of the socket). Bones did curse, a long string of colorful shouts, something popped out of place as he was left dangling in the air, the car was falling fast and they were falling only marginally slower.

“Jim!” Bones shouted at him.

“Captain,” Spock repeated.

Kirk waited until the car hit the ground, crunching metal, and a resounding boom, the canvas lost the updraft and they were really falling then. “NOW, _now, now!_ ” he shouted into the communicator. But the ground was rushing up real fast and he had a moment of real fear just before the first flicker of blue lights and the familiar tingle of being pulled up.

They smashed into the transporter pad with all the momentum of a hundred foot drop and something definitely cracked. Bone or transporter he couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t feel anything but the insane rush of blood through his body, coursing like fire and the sheer unimaginable glee at being alive—felt like insanity as he started laughing. Laughing, rolling over to find Bones lying on his face on the transporter with Spock still holding onto his arm and the canvas drifted down slowly to cover them all. He laughed.

Bones coughed and then rubbed his face down against the cool metal and started laughing. Spock was half sitting up and just staring at them like they were insane. He was flushed green and breathing hard. Bones was roaring with laughter cut through with little gasps of pain and ows. 

“I fail to see how this is funny,” Spock announced.

Kirk fell back onto the transporter pad and laughed all the harder. Someone was pulling at the canvas now and that hurt his wrist. “Wait,” he gasped. “Wait.” Had to uncoil the rope from where it had dug down into his skin and left bloody rings. Spock was doing the same.

“You dislocated my shoulder,” Bones told nobody in particular. He shoved himself up with his left arm, cursing the whole way, sat back on his knees cradling his arm to his chest and shaking his head. But he was smiling.

“Captain!” Chekov shouted from the panel. 

“Good job,” Kirk called. He sat on his ass for a minute and enjoyed the feeling of breathing still air. Everything was starting to hurt now. Scrapes, bruises, the gash across his shoulder, his wrist—Bones was letting out a breath as he came down from the hysteria. 

Scotty didn’t look happy as he exchanged credentials with Chekov over who should have been allowed to do the saving of the Captain’s life.

“Sickbay,” Bones said. “Help me up.” 

Spock got to his feet first, and reached down to wrap his arms around Bones’ ribs and hauled him to his feet. “I still do not understand how any of this could be considered humorous,” Spock said as they limped their way out of the transporter room.


End file.
